


To Do My Bidding

by TheGreenJade



Category: American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: F/M, M/M, Sexual Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 19:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19302523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenJade/pseuds/TheGreenJade
Summary: The Countess takes her revenge on those responsible for the pain of losing her beloved Valentino, but the level of pain she intends to inflict is enough to kill.  Fortunately, she finds the perfect victim in one already dead.





	To Do My Bidding

**Author's Note:**

> This work includes MAJOR March angst/whumpage, because not nearly enough of that exists in this fandom. I really don’t understand that, because March is a divine character. So I decided to invest in that wildly underfunded section and came up with this piece. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it! Feedback would be appreciated, as I have been out of the public writing scene for some time.

“How very kind of you, my dear, to invite me in tonight.”  


  
James reclined on the spacious sofa, a confident smirk that never seemed to leave his face broken only by brief sips of the decadent red wine that filled the glass in his hand. The gracious invitation by his love to her room for wine and, he expected, further pleasantries had been entirely unexpected; as he had to practically beg her to attend even their monthly dinners. However, never would he decline the woman with whom he had fallen so in love that it had persisted even through his eternity.  


  
“I feel as though I have been rather rude lately,” Elizabeth confessed, refilling her own glass, “especially in cancelling our last dinner.” She turned slowly and sauntered toward a very eager James, exaggerating the sensual swing of her slender hips to ensure she had his full attention. Elizabeth never had to try very hard to gain sexual attention, especially from the man she had once called her husband sitting before her; but tonight was special. She wanted to make sure that her plan was executed perfectly.  


  
“Well, darling, you have had quite a bit of excitement lately. I suppose I can’t fault you for your distraction. But if that is your worry, you needn’t fear. You have more than made up for it with this night!”  


  
Elizabeth stifled a sneer at James’s backhanded reference to Valentino’s death. “Yes, I suppose I have.” She slowly lowered herself onto the couch next to the former hotel owner, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.  


  
James inhaled sharply at the gesture. He was defenseless against this woman. He always had been. For a serial killer’s weakness to be a woman seemed laughable, but this was no ordinary woman. She had a power over him that he could not break; so he had learned instead to immerse himself in its pleasures. His head rolled back slightly as he closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of her gentle touch.  


  
Seizing the opportunity, Elizabeth captured James’s bottom lip with her teeth, earning a surprised gasp. “My, my, is my beloved feeling randy tonight?” Pleasure enveloped in eager hopefulness soaked James’s words. It had been some time since they had last been intimate, since he had been intimate with anyone, actually.  


  
Elizabeth simply shushed him with one finger against his lips. “Don’t speak,” she ordered.  


  
James readily obliged, only too happy to indulge his Countess’s desires.  


  
Elizabeth suddenly sucked his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. This time, as they became lost in one another’s mouths, she brought him to a standing position and began pushing him backward toward the bed in the back room. As she guided him up the stairs, she slid his suspenders from his shoulders and ripped his dress shirt open, sending buttons careening around the otherwise pristine room.  


  
“My dear! There is no need to ruin my outfit so hastily. We have as long as we desire.” James feigned admonishment, but his trademark smirk that grew even as he spoke and the animated glint in his eye betrayed his joy.  


  
Elizabeth grinned. “So we do.”  


  
“And I promise—” James leaned forward, tenderly pressing his lips against the back of her hand “—to fulfill all of your desires.”  


  
Elizabeth slipped her fingers beneath the remains of the torn fabric and onto the perfectly unblemished skin beneath, taking pride in the nearly imperceptible shudder it drew from her lover. Advancing against the porcelain-like surface, she painfully slowly slid the tattered cotton off of his shoulders and down to the floor. Her fingers ghosted over the flesh of his chest as she watched his eyes cloud with unbridled need. “I have no doubt you will,” she whispered into his ear, tongue flicking across the lobe when she finished her words. This time, the shudder she felt was apparent.  


  
Without warning, Elizabeth shoved James backward with surprising force, all but throwing him onto the bed. The feral look in her eyes thrilled James as she climbed on top of him, recapturing his mouth and caressing his arms, spreading him out beneath her own body. James had been so entirely lost in her ministrations, so content with allowing her the control that she so obviously wanted, that the confusion of a new sensation on his wrists became lost in his lust-driven incoherency until it became too strong to ignore, his mind finally focusing on the tight material biting into the flesh of his wrists. Finally, he was able to focus his eyes enough to realize that he was bound by rope around each of his wrists, his body stretched taut by the material that appeared to be anchored beneath the mattress.  


  
James chuckled before turning his attention back to Elizabeth, who had raised herself up just above his body. He had been content to allow her her little game of domination up to this point, but although he thoroughly enjoyed deviant behavior, he was always on the opposite side of the situation, the one doing the binding rather than being bound. It was not a position he found himself willing to concede to that extent. “You forget, my love, that I am dead.” He sat up slightly as he pulled his arms forward to free himself, but bewilderment replaced amusement when he was forced backward by the force of his own movement, his wrists still caught within the coarse material.  


  
Elizabeth stood upright next to the bed, unzipping the back of her dress. “Don’t bother trying to break it. It is enchanted.” She shrugged out of the material, allowing it to slip down her body and onto the floor. “I found a coven. They were all too happy to help when they learned that it was to use against the one who murdered their sister.” Once free of the constricting material, she sat back on the bed and gently caressed James’s face. “Besides, you’ll need your strength.”  


  
James’s trepidation prevented him from enjoying the extravagance of the underwear-clad woman before him, a task in which he would usually take particular delight. “Enchanted?” he inquired. “Why, whatever for?”  


  
“Tonight is a special night,” Elizabeth began, unfastening his pants. “This rope will keep you bound to your mortal form for as long as the enchantment remains in place. You will be subject to all physical restrictions, pains, and pleasures.” She had moved to the foot of the bed and ripped his pants straight down and off of his legs as she spoke the final word, dropping them onto the floor when she finished.  


  
James found excitement beginning to overtake his concern as she spoke. It had been so long since he had felt anything. The thought of being able to experience true intimacy again caused him to twitch beneath the only remaining fabric on his skin, a tiny pair of white briefs encircling his waist. Still, his instincts told him that something about the situation was odd; and his intuition was unmatched and not to be ignored, even when it came to his love, perhaps especially when it came to his love. So he pressed. “How long does this enchantment last?”  


  
Elizabeth kissed her way up his legs, causing him to shift uncomfortably as his body thrummed with overwhelmingly pleasurable sensations. “We have as long as we desire.” Her direct quotation of his earlier words was punctuated by his low-pitched moan as she dragged his briefs down by her teeth, allowing his member to spring fully erect. Once she had discarded his briefs on the floor near his pants, Elizabeth admired her handiwork. James was spreadeagle across the bed, arms stretched far too tightly to allow any body movement, legs still aligned facing the bottom of the bed, chest heaving as he attempted to control the overstimulation of sensations he had not felt in a century, eyes fixed straight on her. Her eyes, in turn, settled on the rather large protrusion sticking straight up from his body and already glistening at the tip. “My, my,” she commented with a raised eyebrow. “It certainly has been a while.”  


  
“The last time I felt this way,” James explained, keeping his voice surprisingly steady and even managing a cheeky grin, “was our wedding night.”  


  
Elizabeth climbed onto the bed, straddling James’s legs, and slowly began crawling up his body. “Well then, consider this a second honeymoon.” With that, she lowered herself onto him with an audible moan.  


  
James let out a strangled cry as Elizabeth’s warm wetness surrounded him, her womanhood clinging tightly to him as she slid down and back up at an excruciatingly slow pace. He wanted to thrust into her, wanted to flip her over and ravage her as he had done all those years ago, wanted to do anything but lie trembling beneath her ministrations, which seemed to be the only thing his foggy brain, inundated with far too many sensations at once, could manage to command of his traitorous body. The burning sensation between his legs was quickly becoming unbearable, and James could not restrain the choked gasps that escaped his throat as he found himself nearing completion within just seconds.  


  
Just as suddenly as she had begun, however, Elizabeth pulled her slickness off of him, moving to sit in a nearby chair overlooking the bed. She crossed her legs and leaned back as James’s head shot up, glazed eyes searching for and finally settling on her. The unspoken question of her intentions remained also unanswered. Instead, she took a cigarette from the nightstand and lit it, placing it between her delicate lips as she inhaled deeply.  


  
James didn’t have time to formulate the words for a question or even a plea before Donovan emerged through the doorway. A shocked James immediately pulled in on himself. Though not at all ashamed of his body, he was ashamed of the rather vulnerable position in which he found himself. “I am afraid that you are intruding upon a rather intimate evening between my wife and I. You’ll have to return later.”  


  
“I called him.” Elizabeth’s velvet voice split James’s attention between the still silent man advancing on him and the woman sitting on the sidelines watching.  


  
“My love, whatever for?” James released a rather shameful shriek when Donovan grabbed his ankles and pinned his legs down. “Unhand me!”  


  
Donovan didn’t react to the order at all. His orders came from someone much stronger. Truthfully, he didn’t enjoy sexual interaction with males; but he refused to deny his Mistress anything. If this was what it took for her to forgive him for his crime and allow him back into her life, then he would do all that she asked. She had explained exactly what she wanted of both men for their roles in Valentino’s death and given him explicit instructions for the night. So he began. After pinning James’s legs down, he straddled them and sat down, effectively pinning the much less fit man. James may have been one of the world’s most prolific serial killers, but he had always killed with the aid of a weapon. He had never been much of a physical fighter. Once Donovan was sure that he had the weaker man under control, he leaned forward and took the ghost’s very real member into his mouth. It was a repulsive act, but as he began to suck, he focused on the taste of his Lady rather than on what that taste was.  


  
James felt mortified by the moan that Donovan’s expert mouth elicited. Elizabeth had brought him far too close to the edge for his body to be able to care who finished the job. As much as he wanted to have turned flaccid at the very sight of his Countess’s new lover, he had remained rock solid and even leaking. He tried to, at the very least, slow his growing response; but the pressure around his swollen member made it impossible to focus on anything else. He only vaguely became aware that Elizabeth was speaking, and he tried desperately to focus on her words.  


  
“Donovan here understands that he only exists to do my bidding, This is his atonement for what he has done.” Elizabeth had stood up from her chair and moved to stand next to Donovan, placing her hand on his head in a gesture of praise for his complete submission. “You, on the other hand,” she continued coldly, returning to her seated position in the nearby chair, “have always been much harder to break. I thought I had finally rid myself of you when your pride led you to take a knife to your throat, but you managed to remain a considerable thorn in my side. But finding out that you—” Elizabeth stopped for a moment and closed her eyes, still unable to utter the horrors that had been bestowed upon her beloved Valentino by the very man who claimed to love her with undying strength. After inhaling a shaky breath and regaining her calm, she continued. “After finding out what you did, I was devastated. I want to hurt someone, and since you’re already dead, you’ll do.”  


  
Just as Elizabeth finished her explanation, James exploded into Donovan’s mouth with a loud cry. Donovan obediently sucked him dry, as he had been instructed, ensuring that he created a painful vacuum seal as he pulled his mouth up and finally released the head with a wet pop. James was left heaving in shuddering breaths as he attempted to cope with the agonizing pleasure of orgasm for the first time in over a century. Donovan smirked and slid down off of James’s legs, standing instead at the foot of the bed.  


  
When James had finally recovered enough to speak, he turned his head to focus on Elizabeth, unable to face the shame of what had just transpired. “So you mean to humiliate me.” The words were laced with bitterness and betrayal.  


  
Elizabeth leaned forward. “No,” she whispered. “I mean to cause you unimaginable pain.”  


  
James’s eyes shot wide open as he felt Donovan grab his ankles again. “No!” The breathy entreaty was reactionary and was made before James even realized he had spoken and with quite a bit more fear than he was comfortable revealing.  


  
“No.” Elizabeth’s demand received both men’s attention, but she focused on Donovan and smiled. “Lift his legs. I want to see his face.”  


  
Donovan’s face hardened, but he did not refuse, unwilling to risk the woman’s wrath. “As you wish,” was his simple response.  


  
Jame’s utter confusion turned into abject horror when Donovan bent his legs at the knees and pushed them nearly up to his chest before spreading them apart and crawling onto the bed again to kneel between them. “Stop this!” he screamed, struggling violently against his bindings in his first true display of contention against the night’s events.  


  
Elizabeth, who had moved to stand next to the bed once more, and Donovan paid no attention to his futile efforts. Donovan placed a hand on his own flaccid member and began pumping as Elizabeth caught his mouth in a passionate kiss. Her hand covered his to aid in the process.  


  
James found himself staring at a nightmare: his own. He hadn’t felt anything of the physical wold in so long, but what had begun as a tantalizing opportunity to revel in the long forgotten pleasures of the mortal realm had turned into a vicious revenge plot, well worthy even of his own praise, if it were not he that had been targeted as the victim. He had never been a victim in his entire adult life and certainly not in his death. He controlled everything. He always had the final say, even in the unpleasant business of his cheating wife’s heartbreaking affair. One thing that was very clear at this moment, however, was that he had no control whatsoever and that if he did not escape, he was to be subjected to far worse than mere humiliation.  


  
Finally, Donovan was ready. Unwilling but with renewed energy from focus on the reward for his deeds, Donovan pulled away from Elizabeth and positioned himself at James’s entrance. He had to admit that the terror that seized James in that moment was one of the strongest aphrodisiacs he had encountered. He was going to enjoy tearing the arrogant man apart, being the vessel used to destroy him. Without warning, he plunged as deep as he could into the unprepared passage, forcing his way past the unyielding ring of muscle and far beyond.  


  
James released an anguished scream of which he hadn’t even felt himself capable. The pain was worse than anything he had ever experienced. Even dying had been more bearable. There was a burning sensation ripping its way through his body. Not an inch of him was not in absolute agony. And when Donovan pulled back and impaled him once more, the cycle began again, spurred on by another wail torn from his already raw throat. He wrenched at his bonds but only succeeded in ripping at the flesh of his wrists. Warmth surrounded the skin near the rope, and he noticed a red discoloration. He knew it well. It was blood, but it was his own blood. He couldn’t help but grin, despite the tears stinging his eyes. Human. He was truly human again. The sight of the blood was strangely comforting. Then Donovan thrust again and wrenched his attention back.  


  
James was desperate for any sort of distraction from the attack, and he found it when he let his head loll to the side and found Elizabeth rising from the chair she had reclaimed. Her eyes beamed with lust and excitement as she watched his degradation. As she approached the bed, he noted absent-mindedly that she had donned one of her claws. She stopped at the edge of the bed and then placed one knee followed by the other on top. As the screams from his tortured throat waned to whimpers and yelps, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back, her naked hand tracing its way down her stomach all the way to her womanhood, where she began to touch herself.  


  
Appalled and disgusted, James turned his head away, only to snap it forward again when he felt a new sensation at the base of his member. Through a watery blur, he saw the claw. Panic and something else seized him when he realized that the claw was making its way slowly up his member, dragging just hard enough to elicit exactly the reaction it was getting but not hard enough to break the skin.  


  
“Donovan.”  


  
The simple word was accompanied by a shift in Donovan’s position, and suddenly, there was an explosion of light behind James’s eyes as Donovan grazed an extraordinarily sensitive bundle of nerves somewhere within James, an area James himself had been unaware he had until that second. Pain and pleasure mingled as one, and to his chagrin, when Donovan found the same spot again, he found himself getting hard again.  


  
The reaction seemed to be something with which Elizabeth was only too happy to help. Slicking her fingers with her own wetness, she replaced the claw with her now lubricated fingers and began massaging his growing length as Donovan continued to pound that sensitive spot with every thrust. Soon, James found his whimpers turning into moans once more. He couldn’t understand how he was now actually enjoying his own attack, but he couldn’t seem to control this corporeal form’s responses.  


  
Just as James’s swollen member reached its full height, however, Elizabeth wrapped her hand around the base and squeezed tightly, ripping a choked yelp from the man to whom it belonged. She leaned over him. “Does it hurt?”  


  
James didn’t see the point in lying. Perhaps he could even succeed in ending his torture sooner. “Yes.” A single new tear slid down his cheek at the sheer ignobility of his situation.  


  
“Good,” Elizabeth responded, an approving grin spreading across her face.  


  
As Elizabeth retreated, hand still in place around James, Donovan pulled completely out without warning. Though James felt Donovan’s thick hands pull his legs down, still pulled apart, and lock onto his ankles, he allowed his head to fall backward onto the bed, enjoying any small moment of reprieve. It was a short-lived victory. Elizabeth’s vice hold at the base of his painfully swollen member had nearly numbed it, but finally, he felt a pricking sensation at the tip, one that increasingly demanded attention with every second. James’s stomach dropped when he lifted his head and finally discovered the source of the new discomfort. One of the nails of Elizabeth’s claw was leisurely pressing its way into his tip. A second later, the discomfort turned into pain. A second after that, the pain turned into agony; and renewed screams clawed their way from his throat as he began thrashing, desperate to escape.  


  
“You should probably be careful about your movement. Wouldn’t want me to accidentally cut off something you might need later.” Elizabeth didn’t stop the advancing nail, even as James’s attempts to still his body left him shaking and jerking impulsively, even as the screams turned his voice hoarse again, even as the blood began to flow, sending vibrant red streaks trickling down the deep purple skin.  


  
Finally, Elizabeth ended her new torture, leaving a breathless James gasping for air and desperate for relief. Elizabeth, however, would allow none. As soon as she retrieved her nail, she dipped her head down to lap at the blood, following a red streak up from the base before flicking her tongue at the damaged tip.  


  
James yelped. “Please,” he finally uttered in a small voice, his normal booming tenor replaced by a brokenness that even he didn’t recognize. “Please, dearest, stop this.”  


  
Elizabeth raised her head to focus on his pain-filled eyes. The sight pleased her. Nonetheless, she felt tears prick her own eyes as she responded angrily to his plea. “You caused me a lifetime of pain, took the one thing I ever truly loved; and you lied to me about it for a hundred years.” She plunged the nail already soaked in his blood into his broken entrance, and the bloodcurdling scream as James’s entire body arced off the bed made the entire endeavor of the evening worthwhile. “I would like to see you rot in hell.” She twisted the nail before retrieving it and plunging in again with well-placed aim toward that sensitive nerve bundle, her free hand moving to pump his still swollen member. “But since you’re already there, I’ll settle for inflicting one night of something worse myself.”  
James could no longer focus on anything around him. The only sensations were the ungodly pain of his already damaged passage being torn to shreds and his engorged member being even further stimulated. The hand on his member suddenly focused on his slit head, rubbing over it harshly. The pain of the overstimulation fought for dominance over the pain of the broken skin burning as he shot his load through the air. Still, the stimulation did not stop; and after a second orgasm, it was excruciating. Regardless of how James twisted and bucked his body, he could not escape.  


  
Suddenly, it was no longer a hand on his member but her warm passage instead while his own was still ravaged, fire licking every bit of skin. He realized that it was Donovan’s fingers that had replaced Elizabeth’s nail and that each thrust was aimed directly at the bundle of nerves that would bring him to a third searing orgasm as Elizabeth rode him, trailing her hands along his body and peppering his lips and neck with lustful kisses and deep bites. James didn’t even have the strength to scream anymore. Darkness clouded the edges of his vision. Finally, he gave Elizabeth his release; though there was nothing left to give.  


  
As Elizabeth slid James out from inside her, she noticed his fading expression. She instructed Donovan to withdraw himself and leave the room. Finally, she cut the rope from one of his wrists.  


  
James drew in a long, choked gasp as consciousness flooded back to him. The wounds of a fleshly form left him, healed by his ghostly form; though the evidence of his torture remained on both his body and his bed. Strength returned to him as he turned onto his side and curled in on himself, but it was slow in filling him. Death offered him a strange kind of vitality, but the scars of his ordeal would remain rooted in his psyche for eternity.  


  
A towel slapped James’s body, causing him to jump in terror and scramble back on the bed, cursing himself immediately for the overt sign of weakness. He found himself staring back at the Countess’s cold eyes. She had already gotten dressed in a fine gown and blusher, indicative of her intention to go out to find a victim for feeding.  


  
“You should clean yourself and this place up. I will be having a guest tonight.”  


  
James could only watch as she turned around and exited the room, pulling the main doors closed behind her. When the heavy doors slammed shut, he threw the towel off of him toward the wall and jump up, pulling the rope off of his wrists and advancing toward the door, releasing a bellow of rage as he did so. Once he reached the back room doors, however, he sank to his knees, a wail of unbridled pain bubbling up through his throat and escaping his lips. He allowed the sobs that racked his body to continue unchecked.  


  
Finally, once the fit subsided, he slowly rose, cleaned the blood off of his body with a warm cloth, and redressed, allowing his buttonless dress shirt to hang loosely off his body. Then, he called Miss Evers. His disheveled appearance very obviously bothered her, but she kept her tongue. “Miss Evers—” his trademark smirk had returned, “—I’m afraid we’ve made a bit of a mess.”  


  
“I’ll take care of it right away, Mr. March!” The ever eager old woman rushed around him and bustled about her business.  


  
James stepped out of the doors and surveyed his halls. James Patrick March had been broken. He had been victimized by his own bride.  


  
And he couldn’t wait for her to do it again.


End file.
